


Finn's Flowers

by mssrj_335



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Finn has a history, Florist AU, Florist Finn, Hurt Poe Dameron, Hurt/Comfort, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Blood, POV Finn (Star Wars), Some Plot, These boys are so Soft ™, Undercover Poe Dameron, anyway have fun, flowers as a plot device, mentions of human trafficking, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: Finn is a florist just going about his business and Poe is a returning customer looking to send a message.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 35
Kudos: 197





	Finn's Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> heyo, self-edited again  
> still terrible at summaries and titles but hey  
> this was supposed to be cute and got way out of hand

Finn loves the smell of fresh flowers. With a gentle breeze blowing through the store and the soft morning light, Finn feels lighter than air. His little shop isn’t much but it’s his and it’s perfect. It’s so _good_ to be free. He hums along with whatever is on the radio as his watering can fills. The bells above the door jangle and he catches sight of someone sauntering into the shop. Immediately, he feels the need to pour the entire watering can over his head because _damn_. He’s pretty sure the most beautiful man he’s ever seen is smelling a rose on the shelf by the register. The man can’t see him in the back room but Finn can sure see him, looking like a whole meal in his tight charcoal suit.

The man calls “Hello?” and Finn finally gets his wits back from their vacay somewhere around his customer’s thighs.

“Coming! Hold on!”

Ah fuck, now the water is overflowing. He slaps the faucet off, leaves the can in the sink and scurries to the counter, drying his hands on his apron. Christ, the guy is even prettier up close. His suit jacket is open, shirt unbuttoned waaay deeper than it had any right to be, and his smile is as bright as the diamond stud twinkling in his ear. He can’t help it: jaw agape and eyebrows impressed, Finn rakes him from head to toe.

“How uh…how can I help you?” _Wow, smooth_.

His customer grins, like he knows exactly what Finn was thinking. “I hear you’re the man to see to send a message?”

Finn blinks a couple times quickly, shakes his head and says, “Yeah, uh yeah! You mean the custom bouquets? Sure!” Christ on a bike, he hasn’t been this tongue tied since grade school probably. “What’s your name? For the order,” he clarifies, heat spreading in his cheeks.

“Poe,” the suit says, “Poe Dameron. You must be Finn?” Finn tries not to get too distracted by the way Poe’s lips shape around his name and cocks an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Finn’s Flowers, right?” Poe gestures in a vague upward motion. Oh. OH! Realization smacks him in the face, appropriate since it would be too embarrassing to smack himself right now.

_Finn’s Flowers_. The shop sign. Right.

He scrambles for a receipt pad and a pen, looking Poe up and down again in a different kind of way. If there is one thing he’s good at, it’s knowing what people need to say before they really say it. Flowers were like that. Perfect for sending a message when you were too afraid to say it out loud. He scribbles Poe’s name on the pad and says, “Your message somewhere along the lines of: ‘everything’s fine, don’t worry?’”

It’s a risk but it’s worth it. Poe’s face lights up, suitably impressed. “Actually, yeah,” he smiles, a tiny gap in his teeth making an appearance. “How’d you know?”

In truth, it was probably a lucky guess.Yes, Finn is good at knowing what people need to say but it usually takes a transaction or two to get the feeling right. It’s certainly part of the reason he has so many repeat customers but it’s always a risk the first guess.

Finn decides to keep that bit of information to himself and grins back at Poe. “Can’t tell you all my secrets,” he teases. “How would I get you to come back?” It’s a blatant flirt now that he’s got his feet back and he’s not even a little bit sorry. “How big do you need it to be?” he asks.

“If we’re talkin’ flowers, something small is fine. Anything else though…” he trails off suggestively, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

_Oh god, he flirts back_. His face feels hot and nervous laugh bubbles out of Finn’s chest but he makes a quick mental inventory and says, “How much time do you have? I’m pretty sure I have everything I need; I can throw something together for you real quick.”

Poe leans on the counter, shirt sliding open enough to show some collarbone and more tan skin. Finn’s mouth feels cottony and he tries not to stare. Again.

“I got all day, buddy,” Poe replies easily, folding his hands together.

Finn grins, inordinately pleased about that. “Stay right there, I’ll be back in a few.”

He turns and darts to the back room. On one side of the room are his live plants, kept bright and warm and watered. The other side is lined with coolers where he can keep speciality buds fresh. He starts with the live plants, gently snipping white chrysanthemums, a red passion flower, and some ivy for filling. From the coolers, he pulls several white poppies and jasmine. He doesn’t give it a second thought: it’s exactly what Poe needs. He tucks the stems into water vials, wraps the whole thing together in some white fabric, and ties it with red ribbon. Altogether, the little bouquet is pretty striking and smells amazing, too. Satisfied, he starts to stride back to the front when a little daylily catches his eye.

He stops, stares.

How brave is he feeling?

A moment’s hesitation then he snips the bud and goes back to the counter. Poe is still in the store, but he’s moved to look at the pictures hanging on the wall. He cuts a dark, clean line through the light, earthy colors. The way his trousers hug his ass makes Finn fumble the bouquet and swear. Thankfully, his reflexes are more engaged than his conscious thought because he manages to catch the thing before it hits the ground. When Poe hears Finn, he turns and smiles.

“So, what’s it say?”

The question doesn’t catch him off guard; in fact, Finn was hoping he’d ask. A good customer always asks. “Chrysanthemums can mean a lot of things,” he says, pointing to each flower. “White ones tend to mean truth. Red passion flower for faith, ivy for fidelity. Poppies and jasmine can be based on their color but white poppies can mean consolation, jasmine for warmth, good feelings. Altogether, they should give the idea that things are good, that you’re—y’know, not a liar. Faithful and true.”

“Wow, that was fast,” Poe remarks, sauntering to the counter. “You know what all those flowers mean, just off the top of your head?”

“This is my job, you know,” Finn teases. “If you think that’s impressive, you should see me around Valentine’s Day.”

Poe’s warm brown eyes sparkle, his grin luminous. “You’re probably impressive every day of the year, buddy,” he says, reaching for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Finn scribbles something else on the receipt paper, punches a few buttons on his register. “Thirty-five even.”

Poe’s wallet is nice, expensive leather, and is holding a _lot_ of cash. He slaps down fifty bill with his right hand, gathers the bouquet with his left, and says, “Can I ask a favor?”

Finn’s hand falters just a bit as he reaches for the money. If this is about specific change, he decides Poe’s sexy rating is going down.

“Could you write something to go with it?”

Oh. That seems easy enough; sure is a mood-killer though. But, writing sappy notes is pretty par for the course, he’s just more than a little disappointed to have to write one for Poe. Of course, he shouldn’t be surprised the guy is taken. Who _wouldn’t_ jump on that, really? 

“Sure.” He reaches for a pen and a clean piece of cardstock. “What do you want it to say? For a girlfriend?”

This time, Poe laughs, sounding embarrassed. “Uh, no. Could you write all the names of these things?” Finn raises an eyebrow. Poe looks at him with those big pretty eyes, imploring. He doesn’t need to do it but Finn can’t say he’s mad about it. “They’re for my mom, she likes to learn about them.”

Oh, christ _._ A family man. Could he _be_ any hotter? Finn smiles hopelessly and starts writing as a few more customers filter into the shop.

“That’s sweet,” he coos. “I don’t really know all their scientific names, but a quick search with their common names should get you what you want.” With a flourish, he tucks the cardstock into the bouquet. “Ok, flowers for mom, and—” Just as brazenly, he pops the daylily into the pocket of Poe’s suit jacket. “—one for you. Lemme get your change and you’ll be good to go.”

He glances at Poe to find him staring with some kind of soft, surprised look on his face, like he’d never gotten a flower before. Finn feels a blush creep up his neck. Maybe he read the situation wrong—

“Thank you,” Poe breathes, the heat in his gaze making Finn hot under his collar.

Ah, so he did read it right.

“Keep the change,” Poe says, tucking his wallet back into his jacket. “I’ll see you around?”

It’s phrased like a question.

“Come back any time,” Finn replies earnestly. “Call next time, you won’t have to wait.”

“You know, I don’t think I mind the wait," Poe smirks and bites his lip. "Catch ya later.”

Finn’s not ashamed to admit that he watches Poe leave the store with more than a little interest.

He might be ashamed to admit that for the next week, every jangle of the shop bell makes his heart leap.

—

It’s probably three weeks before Poe strides back into his shop, right at the close of the day. Finn had since stopped hoping at every bell chime so when Poe calls from the counter, “Finn, buddy, you back there?” the little thrill in his chest is surprising.

He practically vaults out of the basement storage.

Or not surprising? Apparently his body couldn’t decide.

Poe is leaning on the counter, this time in a navy blue suit that makes his tan skin more decadent, looking for all the world like he belonged there.

“Hi stranger,” Finn smiles. “Welcome back!”

Poe plays at mock offense but he’s beaming. “‘Stranger?’” he parrots. “I thought I made more of an impression than that.”

“You made an impression, all right,” Finn laughs a little helplessly.

It may have been three weeks but he certainly hadn’t forgotten Poe’s stupidly beautiful face. Finn’s eyes track the motion of his throat as Poe swallows, a little dazed by Poe’s stupidly beautiful smile.

“I’m kind of in a rush today but same as before,” Poe admits, nearly hopping back and forth now, suave composure forgotten.

Finn chuckles. “Good news?” he asks.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, buddy.”

Maybe it’s the smile on his face or the giddy energy, but it’s infectious—Finn suspects he wouldn’t believe it either.

“Gimme a minute, wait here?”

_What to do, what to do_. Clearly, Poe is excited about something. Finn decides to check his reference book, just to be on the safe side. Maybe bouvardia, if he has any? He peeks in the coolers but he’s almost positive there won’t be any there. _Ah. Nope_. Chamomile flowers then, and some yellow poppies from the fridge. A sprig of marjoram leaves and a bit of foxtail grass for flourish, annnd perfect. He wraps the little bundle in white fabric again, tied with a yellow ribbon this time.

He wonders, if he should pick another flower for Poe. The last one got such a look that Finn decides Poe _definitely_ needs another flower. Something about the softness in his eyes and the delicate wonder in his _thank you_ has Finn itching to hear it again. He cast about the stock room. _What to pick…_

A yellow tulip, he decides. It’ll match the bouquet and bring out a little of that dark golden color Finn spied when Poe’s eyes caught the light just right. He pulls one from the fridge and tucks it gently in his apron pocket.

Poe still has a faint grin when he comes back to the counter but he smiles wider when he spies the bouquet.

“It’s cute!” he exclaims, reaching for his wallet. “You know, you’re really good. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you putting it together so late.”

Finn glances at the clock on the wall and sees yes, it _is_ past closing time, but he tingles a little at the praise. The look on Poe’s face is worth it though; he seems delighted.

“Any time!” Finn reassures him. “As long as you’re not in a hurry. Sometimes I get carried away.”

“I’ll just make time for you then,” Poe says with a wink.

“You uh you still want the names?” Finn fumbles, already reaching for the cardstock. Too bad he's flustered enough to scatter the cup of pens all over the counter.

“Artistic _and_ a good memory; what can’t you do? Just clumsy?” Poe teases, helping him pick up the pens. Again, he pulls a fifty bill from his wallet and lays it on the counter.

Finn smiles, face hot. “I definitely can’t cook,” he admits, scribbling on the card, laughing a little at Poe’s offended noise. “I can’t ever seem to put laundry away.” Finn personally thought of it as his most annoying household trait. Everything else was neat and clean, if somewhat spare, except the damn laundry. “I swear the pile stares daggers at me every morning.”

Poe laughs at that and _oh_. Finn’s hand stops writing, his brain too caught up in the tendons that stood out from Poe’s neck as he threw his head back and laughed.

“Really?" Poe chuckles. "Maybe I’ll give you a lesson sometime.”

“On the dinner or the laundry?” Finn finishes the flower names and tucked the card into the bouquet. “Because I’d really prefer dinner.”

Poe’s dark eyes crinkle in the most _wonderful_ smile. "Dinner, for sure." He starts to back away toward the door. "Sorry I gotta run on you. If I had time today, I'd just go ahead and start."

Finn follows from behind the counter, too curious not to. "Yeah? What would you make?"

Poe stops at the door and looks up at him. They've never been on the same side of the counter before and Finn is surprised to find he's just a shade taller. Poe's eyes glint in the evening sun, in shades of color Finn didn't think possible. He unconsciously sucks his bottom lip a little and Poe's gaze flickers to his mouth. A beat, then, "Whatever you want."

It's a non-answer really, double-edged and dangerous, but Finn smiles at it anyway. A little shyly, he pulls the tulip from his apron and tucks it into Poe's jacket. And yes, the flower is absolutely worth it. Poe's eyes turn all soft staring at the flower and his lips part just enough to murmur, "Thank you..."

Christ, he really wants to kiss him. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to kiss someone so bad. The moment stretched tight then Finn pulls it together, clears his throat and says, "Don't be late."

Poe makes an abortive little gesture, like he's going to reach out and decides better of it. "See ya next time," he offers instead with a tender smile, then he's striding away.

Finn locks the door and watches him go until he realizes Poe left his change. Again.

\--

The next time Finn sees Poe isn't at the shop. In fact, he's surprised to see him out in the wild at all; he thought Poe lived in a whole other world. His clothes, his manners, and his cash all said money and money didn’t exactly live in this neighborhood. So yes, he's surprised to see Poe on his walk home from work a few days later, ducking out of a 7-Eleven. It’s not exactly rush hour, but people are still out and about in the early evening light. No one seems to notice or care about Poe and two men standing in the middle of the parking lot. Poe’s talking to them, both in suits as nice as his but with faces the flavor of sour milk. They’re still a ways off so he can’t hear what they’re saying but Finn has a feeling it isn’t good, whatever it is. Poe’s face is tight in a way he’s never seen it, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. The other suits seem indifferent and they honestly give Finn a crawling sensation he hasn’t felt in years.

Oh god, one of them looks over Poe’s shoulder and catches him staring. Finn immediately drops his gaze and starts walking a little faster. He sees them out of the corner of his eye, loading into an expensive-looking car and leaving Poe in the bustling parking lot. The car rolls by him, maybe a bit slower than necessary. Or maybe that's his own paranoia. Either way, he doesn’t stop walking, just shoves his hands into his coat and buries his face his scarf.

He only stops when he hears Poe shout his name across the street.

Poe is jogging toward him with a look of surprise. “Hey buddy, what’re you doin’ here?” he asks.

“I could ask you the same question,” he replies, starts walking again as soon as Poe joins him. “I live a couple blocks from here. Just headed home.” It’s chilly out still yet and the men passing in the car made him chillier. Right this second, he just wants to be home. Poe shoves his hands back in his pockets and keeps pace.

“That must be pretty nice,” Poe muses with a smile, “just a short walk to work. Mind if I join you?”

Finn chances a glance at Poe. His cheeks and nose are a little red with the cold, his shoes too nice for walking and jacket too thin really, but he seems more at ease now than with the suits so Finn smiles lightly and asks, “So, what are you doing here?”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound accusatory and he doesn’t think it is, but Poe raises an eyebrow at him anyway. Finn’s face warms a smidge; maybe it was too personal to ask.

“Had to meet with some…coworkers,” he replies easily, distaste obvious in his tone. “Never pleasant.”

Finn huffs a laugh at that. “What exactly do you do, anyway?” he asks.

“You could kind of think of me as a trader,” Poe hedges, face tightening. “Do a little of this, a little of that.”

This time, Finn levers an eyebrow up but he decides not to pursue the topic. Clearly, whatever it was wasn’t something Poe wanted to talk about. A little knot settles in his stomach about it but Finn figures he could ignore it for now. Poe is pleasant enough company, his warm smiles pulling away some of the evening’s chill. Instead, he tries, “How’s your mom doing?”

“Hmm?” Poe hums, momentarily lost in thought. “Oh, she’s fine. She loves the flowers, they’re very effective.”

Finn chuckles. “I’ve heard flowers called lots of things but ‘effective’ isn’t one of them.” Poe gives him an awkward smile and opens his mouth to say something. “I’ll take it though,” Finn finishes with a smirk.

“Thanks, buddy,” Poe groans, making Finn’s smile grow. “You caught me on duty, ok? I can’t be blamed if I don’t have my game face on.”

Finn snorts but lets it go and there’s an easy silence between them for a while. When they stop at a light, Poe asks, “How’d you get started with a flower shop?”

Finn’s mood chills a bit and he takes a moment to decide how he wants to parse his answer. The whole story is hard, not something he wants to share, but pieces of it he figures he can handle for now.

“I kind of had a rough time growing up." An understatement. "With all that went on, all I ever wanted was something that was mine. Something that made me happy, that was _me_ ,” he says, more wistful than he intends. “A little over ten years ago, I met the owner of that shop.” Sort of true; it’s an interesting way to say ‘fostered with’ anyway. “Used to be a junk shop but the owner always let me hang out. I made friends with his daughter and when he decided to sell, I jumped on it, had an easy in. It took a while to make ends meet, spent lots of nights sleeping in the shop, but I got there.” He glances at Poe again to find him watching with soft eyes. He swallows around the feelings sticking in his throat. “I was never good at much—” _Lie_ , his brain supplies. “But I was good at gardening. It felt good to make things instead of break them. So, here we are.”

And there they are, paused in front of Finn’s cheap brownstone duplex. Poe is looking at him some kind of way and Finn can’t exactly pinpoint when he crossed the line into oversharing but he knows he’s said more than he meant to.

“What happened to your friend?” Poe asks softly.

It’s not what Finn expects him to ask, which makes it easier to answer. “She went to school,” he says, more than a little proud. “She’s brilliant with cars. She’s gonna open her own shop when she gets back; I told her I’d help her. It’s the least I can do for all that she helped me.”

Poe’s smile is desperately tender. This time he does reach into the space between them, squeezing Finn’s arm through the fabric of his coat. “You’re a good man, Finn,” he breathes. “Anyone who gets to know you is lucky.”

Oh. Finn doesn’t think he’s ever heard that before. It lights him up with a soft, warm sensation from his head to his toes. He thinks just a second, about Poe coming in, staying in, about Poe cooking in his kitchen and laying in his bed. Poe’s still smiling at him with that ridiculously attractive mouth, his hand still lingering on Finn’s arm; Finn wets his lips, somewhat self-conscious, but decides to go ahead.

“Do you, um…” He falters a second. “Would you want to come in for dinner? Or coffee? Or whatever? I can’t cook but you can warm up a bit?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Finn knows the answer is no. Poe drops his gaze a moment then looks up at Finn. “Ask me any other time, I’d say yes,” Poe promises. “I can’t right now…”

Finn knows he looks a little crestfallen but he gathers himself. No sense in making it worse.

“Yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll uh—I’ll see you later, then,” he mumbles, burying his face in his scarf again and turning to make a beeline for his front door.

As he turns, he feels Poe’s hand tighten on his elbow. “Hey, hey, wait!” Poe says, keeping him in place.

Finn peeks at him from behind his scarf. Poe searches his eyes for a second then leans forward. Finn’s not sure what he’s doing until he feels Poe’s breath in the air next to him and his warm lips on his cheek. _Oh._ That’s—wow.

“I’m serious,” Poe murmurs, “ask me again sometime.”

Finn’s mouth isn’t quite working the way he wants it to but he manages to stutter out, “Yeah, ok,” and not look a total fool.

A breeze kicks up, causing them both to shiver, and Finn reacts impulsively. He pulls the navy blue scarf from his neck and wraps it around Poe’s.

“Insurance,” he says, proud that his brain does in fact still function. “Make sure you bring that back.” Poe’s eyes are doing that soft thing again, making Finn’s gut feel wobbly. “So I can ask you.”

He gives Poe’s hand a squeeze and finally starts making his way up the steps to his stoop. When he turns around one last time, Poe is still watching him with that tender look. With a tiny wave, he says, “Bye, Poe.”

Only when he’s alone in his little duplex with the cold and the quiet does he reach up and touch his cheek.

—

This time, Poe is back to the shop in under a week.

There is something around the edge of him though, something heavier than last time. His black suit is a little wrinkled, his eyes tired, and the scarf is no where in sight. 

“Hey Poe,” he says breathlessly. “I’m glad you’re back.” Poe’s cheeks color and it might be the most attractive thing he’s seen since…ever. “Need another bouquet?”

Poe looks lost then his brain seems to catch up. “Oh! Yeah, right, flowers for Mom. Need another one.”

Finn lets his hand reach across the counter and he touches Poe’s hand gently. “Hey uh, are you ok?” he asks, just as gently. “You seem a little…” He trails off, hoping Poe will fill him in.

For a second, it seems like Poe might actually spill but the moment passes and he pastes on a quick bright smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, buddy,” he says, giving Finn’s hand a squeeze. “Work’s just kicking my ass and Mom needs some more flowers.”

Finn pulls his hand back and Poe places his cash on the counter. “I think I know what you need. Sure you don’t mind to wait?”

This time, Poe’s smile seems more genuine and it does things to Finn’s guts that he doesn’t want to admit.

“I’ll be here.”

Finn smiles back and heads to the stock room. This time, he picks out bluebell (constancy), red columbine (anxiousness), rhododendron (danger), and red geranium (consolation), sprinkling in sprigs of fir (time). Like before, he wraps them in white fabric and ties them with ribbon.

And, like before, he snags a flower—an azalea—and tucks it into his apron.

A few other customers are standing at the register when he returns. Poe is standing in front of his pictures again. They’re nothing special, just photos of the shop opening, of him and Rey before she left for school, a few friends from days long gone there to remind him what’s real and what’s not. Finn helps the other customers leave then makes his way back to Poe.

“This look good?” Finn asks, gesturing with the bouquet as he approaches.

Poe looks over his shoulder but doesn’t actually answer the question. “This you?” he asks, pointing to the oldest picture on the wall.

Finn comes to stand beside him and his throat gets tight. It’s a picture of him and four other boys, the only picture he has of them. They were all about fifteen, then. Probably ten years ago or more.

He sighs.

Finn didn't kid himself; he knows exactly how long ago that had been.

“Yeah um, that’s me,” he murmurs, pointing to his younger self. He was wearing pants that were a little too short, a purple windbreaker.

“You look pretty happy. These your brothers?” Poe smiles. It’s not as easy to smile back this time.

“Yeah,” Finn says, a bit softer. Not exactly true but-- “They were.”

A line furrows Poe’s brow. He looks as if he’s going to ask more but he seems to catch sight of the flowers and stops. Gently, Poe slips the bouquet from his fingers, sending a little shiver up his spine when Poe’s fingers seem to linger longer than they should.There’s something there that Poe wants to say, Finn can feel it. If his gut is right, it has something to do with Poe’s job. It feels like something double-edged, dangerous, but not in the same way as the quick flirting or easy grins. He doesn’t pretend to know Poe, not really, but whatever is between them is enough to give him pause. He decides to give voice to the feeling in his stomach. Hopefully, it won’t scare Poe off.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re going through or what you even do,” Finn says cautiously. “I barely know your last name.” Poe scoffs softly. “I do know that I like you though and…whatever it is you’re doing, I hope you be careful.”

That seems to be enough because Poe relaxes and smiles at him again. Poe runs his thumb over the bouquet ribbon. The door bells jangle, pulling Finn’s attention away. He pops the azalea into Poe’s suit jacket, unconsciously trailing a hand down Poe’s chest.

“Just take care of yourself. Be careful,” he repeats.

He turns and takes his place back at the counter to help the new customers. When he looks back over at his pictures, Poe is gone.

—

It’s two in the morning and someone is pounding on his door.

Finn jolts awake, reaching without a second thought to the baseball bat by his bed. He hears someone call out; it’s garbled, too muffled to hear.With a deep breath, he shoulders the bat and creeps down the stairs to the door. Hopefully it’s not junkies at the wrong house; won’t do him any good to try the cops again if it is.

At last, he reaches the ground floor, tiptoeing to the door. Whoever is muffled outside apparently knows his name and they sound more than a little frantic.

“Finn! Finn, please open the door! It’s me, it’s Poe!”

_Poe? What on Earth—_

Against his better judgement, he lowers the bat and opens the door. He keeps the chain on though; he’s not crazy. The sight that greets him makes his stomach churn.

“Poe? What’re you doing here?” He peeks through the crack in the door. Poe looks absolutely ruined, completely disheveled. His lip is split and bleeding, suit jacket gone, shirt stained with what looks like oil in the darkness. Poe’s right hand is wrapped around his left arm tightly and Finn has a sinking feeling the dark blotches are not oil. There’s no car in sight; Finn wonders absently how he got there.

“ _Finn_ ,” Poe breathes, looking more relieved than he has any right to be. “Christ, I’m happy to see you—” He staggers a bit, hand braced on the jamb, and Finn opens the door a little more.

“Hey, are you ok?” he asks, eyes widening.

“Can I…” Poe takes a steadying breath, still shaky on his feet. “Finn, please let me in, I need your help.”

The way Poe’s voice cracks at the end is enough for Finn to unchain the door. He steps aside, only to drop the bat and end up with an armful when Poe lurches forward.

“Whoa, hold on!” he cries, fitting an arm around Poe’s waist. He slams the door behind him and flips the lock as Poe steadily starts collapsing.

They barely make it to the living room for Poe to slouch on Finn’s threadbare couch. Finn flips on a lamp and realizes just how much adrenaline must’ve carried Poe to his door. There’s a bruise blooming on his stupidly beautiful face, blood drying down his chin. Already his couch is getting ruined because that is, in fact, not oil seeping between Poe’s fingers and trailing down his arm.

“Holy shit, Poe, what happened to you?”

Poe looks at him blearily, body wound tight. “I need your phone.”

Finn’s so taken aback by the statement that he flounders. “You—what do you—hold on, you _what_?”

Poe reaches out to him with his unbloodied hand, imploring with his big pretty eyes. “Phone, Finn. Please.”

This time, Finn decides he can be mad about it. He purses his lips and says, “Hold on,” before he darts upstairs to grab his phone from the charger.

He hands it to Poe, unlocked, and leaves to get the first aid kit from the kitchen. It probably doesn’t have everything he needs but this certainly isn’t the first time Finn has patched someone up so there are still leftovers. Should still be nonstick bandages and some gauze, if he remembers right. Better to be prepared for the blood, too; he fills a bowl with warm water and grabs a washcloth. He pads back to the living room, where he can hear Poe murmuring softly into the phone.

“—send a team now, you’ll find them. If you don’t, we both know they’ll be gone within hours.”

A pause. Someone tears Poe a new asshole; she’s loud enough that Finn can hear her in the quiet but he’s not close enough to make out actual words.

“I don’t know who made me—I know, _I know_ ,” Poe sighs, letting his head sink against the back of the couch. Another round of yelling and Poe’s tone takes on a harder edge. “No shit, of _course_ I didn’t go there. I’m with Finn.” Poe’s eyes flicker to him where he stands, awkwardly clutching the first aid kit and bowl in his t-shirt and boxers. “Yeah, flowers Finn. I—no, he’s—”

Whoever is on the other end seems to have calmed some but clearly isn’t happy with his decision and Poe can’t get a word in edgewise. To be honest, Finn isn’t super pleased about it either. Not because he’s mad Poe chose him as a safe place to go—that part he’s secretly stunned by—no, it’s what comes after this phone call is over.

“I’ll report in in the morning,” Poe says finally. “It should be safe to move then.” There’s another pause, then he says, “Yes, ma’am,” and cuts the call.

Finn decides now is as good a time as any to clean him up and he does so without hesitation, kneeling at Poe’s side. Gingerly, he peels Poe’s hand away from his bloody shoulder and hisses at the terrible gash he finds.

“You’re not a trader, are you?”

He can’t think of anything else to say but he needs to say something. Christ on a crutch, why'd it have to be that, though? Poe huffs a dry laugh.

“No, not exactly,” he says, pulling his arm away from Finn’s fingers. “Look, buddy, you don’t have to do that—”

“Don’t even try it,” Finn snaps, maybe harsher than he meant to. “You show up at my door at the AM asscrack of the day, you better be ready to have my full goddamn attention.”

Poe’s gone very quiet, eyes very wide like maybe he made a mistake, so Finn gently starts unbuttoning his shirt to better get at the laceration.

“You’re here,” he says more softly, “so let me help you.”

Poe sucks in a soft breath at that but leans forward enough that Finn can work the ruined white fabric over his arm. It peels away with a horrible wet noise and he leaves it to dangle from the arm of the couch. Really, they should move to the kitchen where there is better light and the couch won’t be ruined but at a closer look, there’s going to be bruises on Poe’s everything. It’s gotta hurt to breathe, let alone move, so Finn doesn't push it. Parts of Poe’s chest and stomach are red and swollen, one spot looking suspiciously shoe-shaped. Finn swallows against the hard lump in his throat and lightly wrings the washcloth into the bowl.

“Hold tight, this might sting,” he murmurs.

Poe’s entire body tenses when Finn squeezes the rest of the water out over the wound and wipes away the blood around it.

“What happened?” he asks again, relieved to see that it looks worse than it is. Whatever got Poe’s arm wasn’t a knife; the edges are too rough and it’s too shallow. He washes it again. 

“Got shot,” Poe grits out.

Finn’s hands freeze where they are, eyes incredulous. “You _what_?”

Poe shifts uncomfortably. “To be fair, they didn’t get the rest of me.”

“Um, yes they fucking _did,_ ” Finn declares, gesturing in a vague motion to ‘the rest of me’ Poe seems to have conveniently forgotten. “Poe, who even are _they_?”

“I…” Poe sighs, letting his head flop on the couch again. “I was undercover,” he admits. “Human trafficking. I couldn’t talk directly to my boss, so we used your flowers. I’d hide messages in them, with them. I’d found something big, a storehouse.” He groans when Finn wipes again at the gash in his arm. “Someone found me out.”

His arm finally seems to have stopped bleeding. Finn determinedly does not look at Poe. Instead, he rips open a few nonstick bandages and says, “First Order.”

It should have been a question but it’s not. Finn knows in his gut that’s exactly who it would be.A frisson of panic zips through him. The First Order has had him once; he’d managed to escape. No matter how far he runs, the First Order still finds him. Something bitter starts to form in his chest but he nips it in the bud. He’s been gone so long, there’s no way they’d find him again now…surely.

“Yeah,” Poe agrees, thankfully not making the connection. He smears some antibiotic on Poe’s arm as gently as he can but Poe groans deep in his chest and Finn’s hands falter.

“Here, hold this here,” Finn says, gathering his wits again when Poe stops panting. He puts Poe’s hand at the edge of the bandages and starts wrapping the gauze around Poe’s bicep. Every muscle in Poe’s body is tight until, at last, he finishes, tucking the edges away.

Poe relaxes in a gust of breath, closes his eyes. Finn hesitates just a moment, looking over Poe’s body again, wiping away blood and dirt where he can find it. Poe is breathing a little easier and he murmurs a soft, “Thank you.”

The last place left is Poe’s split lip. Finn washes the cloth and wrings it halfway dry, trying not to let his hands shake. He starts wiping the blood from Poe’s chin, not quite meeting Poe’s hooded gaze. He feels a little sick. Exposed. Emotions in turmoil. He swipes the cloth over Poe’s lips and they part with a hiss.

“Finn,” Poe murmurs, stilling the motion of his hands, “I _never_ intended to bring you into this. I just…”

“You knew I was here,” Finn supplies.

“I trusted you,” Poe corrects, holding Finn’s wrists lightly in his hands.

Finn sways back a bit at that. It wasn’t at all what he expected. After all this--“Why? I was just the message guy.”

Poe swallows hard, trying to pull Finn back toward him. “No, Finn I—You helped me with my mission. You’ve done so much for me; look what you’re doing _now._ ”

Shame burns hot in Finn’s gut and he gently pulls his hands free. “Yeah…” he hedges. “I’m doin'.” He gets to his feet and pulls a blanket and pillow from the closet in the hall. When he returns, he trades them for the bloody water and the first aid kit, still not meeting Poe’s eyes.

“You can stay here tonight, if you want…” He holds out his hand. “C’mon.”

Poe’s brow pinches and he lets Finn help him to his feet and up the stairs. When Finn lays him in his bed, Poe tries to protest. Finn doesn’t say anything more than a firm, “Don’t argue,” and Poe acquiesces, settles against his pillows with something like chagrin on his face. It stings a little, remembering how he’d thought of Poe in his bed before this. Despite the sinking in his heart, he pulls the covers back and tucks Poe in as gently as he can. “I’ll be downstairs,” he says softly, “if you need anything.”

“Finn, don’t—” Poe is looking at him with those big pretty eyes again and Finn aches.

He holds up a hand. “Just…get some rest, ok?”

Poe falls silent, having the gall to look bewildered. Finn shuffles back down the steps and makes up a spot to sleep in the recliner. He stays awake a long time thinking about how his couch smells like blood.

When he wakes in the morning, Poe is gone. Again.

—

For a month, he doesn’t hear from Poe. And, for a month, he flits aimlessly around his shop. He gets rid of his couch. Buys a new-to-you one. Customers come and go, flowers are sold, but his mind is a litany of questions. What if Poe had been found again? What if he was dead? Was he ever going to come back? He calls Rey and tells her everything. Maybe he cries a little but that’s his own business. Rey is suitably best-friend-pissed and vows to hunt down the g-man until Finn talks her off that ledge. Maybe some part of him is hoping that Poe will come striding back through his door but he decides to firmly ignore that part and get on with everything.

It wasn’t as if it mattered anyway. Wherever Poe was, his cover had been blown and he didn’t have any reason to come back.

So at the end of a busy Friday afternoon, after the last customer has left and Finn is counting the register drawer, he’s surprised to hear the door bells jangle again. He sighs, berating himself for not locking the door, and makes his way to the front counter.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” he calls, ducking out of the store room—

—only to find Poe Dameron standing in his shop once again. He looks so soft, so different in his jeans and sweater. The bruise on his face is gone, his split lip has mostly healed. And this time, he’s wearing Finn’s scarf and holding a bouquet of flowers Finn had _not_ made.

“Uh, hey buddy.” Poe clears his throat and Finn is gobsmacked.

“Poe? What’re you doing here?”

“I uh, I came to apologize. About the wait, about everything. I couldn’t come back until the job was done, I just wanted to keep you safe,” Poe continues, taking a few tentative steps forward. “Finn, I—”

Whatever he is going to say is lost. Finn dashes around the counter and crushes Poe in a hug. “You’re ok,” he breathes into Poe’s neck. When he feels Poe’s arms wrap around him, he can’t help but smile. “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

He squeezes Poe one more time before he lets him go. Poe ducks his head and holds the flowers between them. “I thought…” he starts. Finn stares at the bouquet for a second before Poe puts them gently in his hand. “I looked up what those flowers meant. The ones you gave me.” Finn feels heat creep up his neck. “So, I thought we could do dinner? Start fresh?”

Finn lights up in a smile that makes his face hurt. “Wait, you were serious?”

Poe bites his lip. “Maybe you should read the flowers and find out, buddy.” Finn snorts at that and Poe laughs.

It’s so easy to slip back to where they were. Like they never left.

“I mean it,” Poe says seriously. “Come have dinner with me.” He pauses, wets his lips in a nervous motion Finn recognizes as his own. “Or coffee. Or whatever you want. If you want.”

Finn sees red tulips and poppies, rose buds and pine, jonquil daffodils. Everything that Poe wanted to say but can’t just yet. Not for the first time, Finn marvels at the language of flowers. He holds the bouquet against his chest, feeling warm from his head to his toes and at ease at last.

“I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can check this website, it's what i used for the flowers
> 
> http://www.allflorists.co.uk/advice_flowerMeanings.asp


End file.
